


Cat on the Bed

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Bloodplay, Cat/Human Hybrids, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: In a universe where Antari are basically catboys, Holland pays Kell a visit.





	Cat on the Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliencupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencupcake/gifts).



Kell got back late from his trip to Grey London, dropping another letter off and again evading attention from the Prince Regent. The Prince had been trying to make him take off his hat this time, under such pretexts as “It’s much too warm in here” and “Don’t you think it’s a bit rude”. He’d been rather obviously trying to get a look at Kell’s ears, which Kell always kept covered in Grey London and White London and usually even in Red London, except when he was fine with the attention. They, and the tail he hid with his long-coat, were not exactly subtle.

Now that he was returned to the castle, he took off his hat twitched his ears, stretching them out a bit. They felt a little wrinkled, but it couldn’t be helped. He sighed, smoothed his hair behind them, and headed to the throne room to report to his parents and say hello to Rhy.

His report was brief, as it generally was for Grey London. Still no signs of magical trouble. A letter from the king, a letter from the Prince Regent. The king’s health was poor—as it always was. (And the Prince Regent was obnoxious and nosy as always, but he knew the king and queen wouldn’t want to hear about that.)

“We’ve had an Antari visitor on our end as well,” the king said.

Kell could feel his ears perking up in interest and his tail twitching restlessly behind his coat. Damn it. He was pretty good at controlling his facial expressions but other parts of himself, not so much. “Oh? Holland came to deliver a message?”

If it hadn’t been Holland, that really _would_ be news.

“Yes, a letter from our gracious neighbors,” the king said drily. He had a wary sort of amusement toward the Danes—considered White London a mess, but a distant one. He’d never know the terror of standing in their presence, feeling their evaluative gaze (how can I use you? How can I tame you?), but Kell knew it well enough. He’d never really be able to joke with them, except occasionally with Holland, and even then only when Holland started it.

“Anything I need to know?”

“Not as of now. I’ll brief you before we send our next letter.”

“Did Holland say anything for me?” Kell didn’t particularly want a message from the Danes, but to have Holland drop by and not even leave the shortest word…

“Holland said he wanted to speak with you in person,” Rhy said. He was smirking. The king and queen were uncomfortable talking about Kell being in a relationship with a dangerous foreigner and they danced around the subject, but Rhy had no qualms on the matter. For him, if it meant Kell was having sex, he wouldn’t have cared if Kell was fucking Astrid Dane herself.

Kell tilted his head. “Oh?”

“He’s waiting in your room.”

 _Oh_.

Kell could feel his face turning pink. He nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll go see what he has to say.”

The king and queen nodded back awkwardly and Kell hurried out. Rhy called as he left: “Have a nice conversation!”

 

* * *

 

Holland was already naked when Kell arrived. He was lying on Kell’s bed, one leg bent and one leg stretched out. The curtains were open in the right way to make sun fall all over the bed. Kell liked to lie like this himself, sometimes. Of course he didn’t usually do it naked because even if they were a couple stories up, someone could always look in.

Besides, “Someone could have come in who wasn’t me.”

Holland gave him a bored look. “I would hope your room is warded enough to prevent that.”

“The wards still allow some people in. You know you can’t completely wall off a room on royal property when you’re a royal ward.”

Holland looked at him and waited for him to realize what an idiot he was being. Kell’s already pink face went red. Of course there was no comparison between the privacy one might sacrifice in a Maresh castle and the utter disregard the Danes had for the privacy of a man they considered a pet.

He couldn’t apologize. That wasn’t how they worked. Instead, he took off his coat and folded it and put it away. Flicked his tail once or twice in a nonchalant way. “Rhy said you wanted to talk to me.”

“It’s been a month.” Holland sat up, hands against the mattress, untrimmed claws scraping the cloth of the comforter and almost catching. “I want to do more than talk.”

Kell swallowed. “Yeah?”

Holland gave him a steady stare. Kell sat down next to him. “Well, I just came back from delivering a message to Grey London. Maybe I’m too tired for—oooh…”

Holland nipped at Kell’s neck. He was careful when he did this. It was usually a little scolding— _we both know what we’re here for, why are you still talking, I came here for sex, not for this_. It had the side effect of turning Kell on, which was one reason it was so effective.

Holland’s tongue, a little rougher and drier than a human’s but not by much, swirled on Kell’s neck. He barely moved his mouth away to mutter, “You’re not tired.”

“Not very.”

“Take your clothes off.”

Kell moved off the bed and Holland followed, though he stood at a distance of a few feet. Holland stared unnervingly as Kell stripped: shirt, boots, pants, underwear. He probably would have liked to be the one to take Kell’s clothes off himself but the Danes liked him to keep his claws long, which was more trouble than it was worth. They were intimidating but at simple tasks they were kind of useless.

They pricked at Kell’s sides as Holland pulled him, now naked, closer. He held Kell still and moved in for a kiss on the lips, hungry and wet and a little too hard. Kell braced a hand on Holland’s back, littered with scars, and another on his head. He stroked Holland’s ears, and Holland, already pleased, rumbled happily.

Holland was not exactly the same sort of Antari as Kell. Whether that was because of natural variation or where they came from or the level of their magical ability was up in the air. Kell was something of an alley tom, red and scruffy, not really princely material but graciously adopted because he was the only Antari Red London had. Holland, on the other hand, was half panther. His hair was black, as were his ears and tail, and he was a lot stronger than Kell. This was a little intimidating some of the time but at moments like this, it was perfect, feeling the strength of Holland’s arms supporting him, the muscles rippling in his back with every motion. Holland was a forest fire of power, but Kell moved him. At moments like this, Kell owned him.

(The brand on Holland’s chest and a slim metal collar around his neck with the Dane insignia on it said otherwise, but Kell had gotten good at ignoring those.)

Kell bit Holland’s lip and Holland’s hands clenched. The carefully positioned claws punctured Kell’s skin. Holland moved back and watched little beads of blood well up. Scarlet on pale skin.

“Ow,” Kell complained. He poked Holland back, though he didn't poke hard enough to prick. "You look at me like you want to eat me." Always staring, always ogling.

Holland laughed. “You like it."

Before the tiny cuts could heal (Kell always healed too fast for Holland’s taste), Holland bent down and licked at them. Blood still staining his lips and tongue, he kissed Kell again, and Kell tasted the iron of his own magic. He swallowed it down.

By now he was hard. Holland was too—they were too close together for Kell not to know that. But Holland was having fun going slow, while Kell was getting impatient. He’d have to be the one to get things really started this time. He reached down and touched the tip of Holland’s dick, lightly stroking it, then moved his hand a little higher. Holland arched out of their kiss, moaning. He pushed Kell’s head down. Demanding, to do that without explaining what he wanted, but they both knew Kell was up for it. Kell kissed the tip gently, then touched it with the tip of his tongue.

“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll do it myself,” Holland growled. His hands were tangled in Kell’s hair—his claws were probably going to get caught—and he was already beginning to clench down.

Kell laughed in his throat. He opened his mouth just a little bit, took in just a little of Holland’s dick. And slowly, as Holland moaned and writhed, moved higher up, licking and sucking as he went.

Holland came with a shudder. Kell choked and pulled back. He swallowed, though—Holland liked that—and squeezed Holland’s thighs. Smiled up at Holland and hummed questioningly.

Holland sat back down on the bed heavily. “You’re getting better, kitten.”

Kell frowned. Was that it? Was Holland done now?

Holland lifted his eyebrows.

Kell smiled and put a hand to his own dick and began to stroke. He’d barely started when Holland stood up and grabbed his wrist. “Mine.”

“Well, if you don’t…”

Holland kissed him to shut him up. Then he went to work.

 

* * *

 

Holland could never stay long after a rendezvous. The time he had spent here would already make the Danes question him. They already knew about his relationship with Kell—no keeping a secret from them, really—but he’d told Kell that this was just one more reason they should spend as little time together as possible. He’d told Kell once, several months ago now, that Kell shouldn’t start liking him for more than sex. If he did, Holland would end it.

Kell had been fine with that at the time. Now it made him a little sad, a little reserved, as Holland gathered his things, put back on his clothes. Before he could cover up his tail, Kell stroked it from the base to the end. Holland shivered, and then shot Kell an irritated look. Probably only irritated because he liked it.

“Next time we should coordinate for Grey London,” Kell said. “Rhy’s too amused by your visits. It’s annoying.”

“Nosy innkeepers are worse,” Holland said. He shrugged on a coat, much less interesting than Kell’s. “I don’t mind your brother.”

“You don’t have to deal with him all the time.”

Holland smirked. “What a hardship.” Grabbing Kell’s chin, he gave him one final kiss. Then he headed out the door. Kell heard him briefly greeting some guards in the hallway.

Kell sighed. Grey London or Red, he’d be glad to see Holland regardless. But later he knew Rhy would tease him about his lover visiting, and he’d probably specify it was just sex, and Rhy would laugh and say of course he hadn’t said it was anything other than sex, but there would be a slightly worried look in his eyes, as there often was lately. He didn’t want Kell to get too attached to Holland, even if he supported the sex. Kell didn’t want to get attached to Holland either. It was a spectacularly bad idea. And yet…

He curled up on his bed on slightly rumpled blankets, not bothering to put them straight. The sun was still shining through the window, though the angle meant it would soon disappear and leave the room in shadows. The blankets smelled of Holland, ash and iron and sweat and sex. Kell would be able to smell him still when no human would be able to. And then, when the smell had wholly faded in a couple weeks, he would have to find his way back to the source.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Antari as catboys is intriguing to me so I liked the prompt a lot. It probably deserves a lot more development than this plotless fic gives it but I tried my best. (Also I'm not hugely experienced in writing smut so I hope it came out okay.)


End file.
